One of those 280,000 was my uncle (there is no way my aunt was involved), whose house I swiped the cassette from during the 1993/1994 summer. I don't think he noticed, it was discovered amongst a large collection of tapes that had been stuffed at the back of a cupboard for years. No idea what other albums were available, none moved me to theft. Sadly, by the time I found it the cover art was long gone and I didn't get to see Kev pissing his initials against a wall in replica urine so dark that he'd have to be immediately hospitalised if it was real.
Speaking of Rude, he lost to Wilson in an Ali vs Foreman style battle for that year's inaugural ARIA Award for Best Comedy Release. They took on a field including Austin Tayshus, Vince Sorrenti and Australia You're Standing In It (featuring Captain Snooze). Against that lot, I can only imagine Rude Rides Again (featuring the single I Hate Cats) ran second. He went on to be the Glenn Close of the ARIAs, nominated a further eight times without success, before bowing out after the unsuccessful 2009 campaign for Rodney Rude Goes The Growl. It's all been downhill from there, last year Chris Lilley got nominated for an album featuring "a South African lesbian pet psychic to the stars".
Not everyone shared the ARIA judging panel's enthusiasm. Future Walkley Award winning journalist Richard Guilliatt was particularly unimpressed.
Without a numbered track listing I guessed the wrong side and listened to it out of order. As we'll find out, the official track order makes no sense, and though I absolutely reject it I won't enforce my beliefs on you. Strap yourself in fans of comedy and outrage alike.
SIDE 1
1. The Last Lager Waltz
To kick off the tracklist whinge, why would you put something with the word 'last' in it first? Didn't even make sense when I thought it was the start of the second side, even less as the opening track. I wish Andrew Denton had tackled big topics like this when interviewed Kevin Bloody Wilson. Track whinge listings aside, it's a good old fashioned comedy romp, with nothing more offensive than him stumbling back from the toilet with his dong out. Maybe that's why they put it first.
As far as great Australian opening lines go it's hard to beat "I'm trying to waltz and I can't even walk". This is followed by another four minutes of Kev making an arsehole of himself at a dance after "a bottle of Bundy and two dozen cans". The highlight is undoubtedly the wounded cry of "HE HIT ME!" after spewing on somebody's car. It's not an entirely wasted night, he ends by saying "I've never had this much fun before. It's great at the Last Lager Waltz"
There is also a music video. Christ only knows where it was shown. Rodney Rude might have unexpectedly hosted Countdown but I guarantee you they weren't playing this. It deserved a wider audience, Kev played drunk better than Nicholas Cage in Leaving Las Vegas.
3. Kev's Courtin' Song
Where Kev stuffs up the ancient art of cracking on, opening the door for every Australian male in licensed premises to ask women one of the following questions:
- Do you fuck on first dates?
- Does your dad own a brewery?
- Can I feel your tits, or will you show them to me?
Always the lowlight for me, generally fast-forwarded. There was nothing for me aged 12 in a track about somebody with a 10 inch tongue who has mastered the art of cunnilingus. Even now, it's by some distance the most boring track on the album. Inessential. However, congratulations if you used to go out with Claire Stubbs:
It's also a triumph of production, with the trombone providing substitute fart noises. I always thought kids who picked that instrument were dickheads because they had to cart it everywhere, but if your career possibilities included playing mock-flatulence on comedy albums maybe they were the smart ones? Sadly, by the time Who Farted? by The Vaughans arrived they were sampling the real thing instead of going to the trouble of crafting soundalike noises on brass instruments. And that's why nobody remembers them fondly.
SIDE 2
6. Livin' Next Door To Alan
This is what it means when they say "The album includes what is claimed by critics to be overtly racist humour".
While the other tracks that get a bit racial are confined to funny voices, this would set race relations back by 20 years if you released it now. Even for the mid 1980s, in an era where King Billy Cokebottle was a viable recording artist, it seems a bit stiff. Kev claims that an indigenous community requested it and fell over themselves laughing at the line "at least we don't got fucking coons live next door to us." I'm not sure that entirely takes the curse off it, but string me up by the ankles and wallop me like a pinata but parts of it still make me laugh.
Given that I thought this was the opening track it obvious made quite the impression on me. Political correctness hadn't reached my life yet, if you played me this now I'd run screaming and deny ever having been involved before the end of the first minute.
Part of the reason I thought this was the opening track was that it was recorded live. Why would you put a live track at the front of Side 2? It was a fortuitous mistake for me, what really roped me in was the unsung hero who uses a moment of silence shortly before the singing to yell “FUCK YOUR MUM!” Somehow that doesn't even make the top 10 most offensive part of this track.
Turns out people thought it was a bit suspect at the time too. Come for the explanation of the song, stay for Kev's unconvincing words of defiance.
If you can put the controversy to one side, there are a couple of moments in this track that have had a long-lasting influence on me. The first is the bit after the subtle pause before he adds "and the Leyland Brothers!" to a list of Bond's party guests. The live crowd went wild, and I gained a reference fit for using whenever the situation wasn't dire enough for a mention of Burke and Wills. Sure by the time I heard this Mike and Mal had already gone but after opening a Pissweak World style theme park and you may as well mention Alby Mangels to young people for all they're going to understand, but it just comes naturally now.
The second is when Bond calls Ben Lexcen and orders another yacht "twice as big and twice as fast as the one I've already got". The big where he says "that'll fuck 'em!" is something I say in any situation involving one-upping somebody. So, I can't endorse the song as a whole but there are nuggets of comedy gold if you're brave enough to strap on the Hazmat suit and wade in. Whatever you do, for the love of all that is holy don't read the YouTube comments.
I wonder if people were inspired to rediscover this song after 1995's dreadful Alice, Who The Fuck Is Alice track came out in 1995? I was probably still listening to the Kev version, the tape had done the rounds of most of my classmates by that point and as far as I know none of us ended up as Senate candidates for fringe far-right parties.
7. The Pubic Hair Song
In which Kev takes a scientific look at accents from around the world, determining that they're influenced by rogue pubic hairs. Basically just an excuse to do comedy accents - Italian (on top lip), Chinese (back of throat), Scottish (roof of mouth) and even ocker Australian (up nose). The Indian accent is usually a rich source of comedy in this county (see Mahatma Cote and Matt Tilley ringing up people pretending to be from a call centre) but surprisingly fails to qualify here.
The backing singers are best on ground. That's who I'd like to hear from, the women paid to turn up at a studio and sing "in this old world there's not a thing to drive you to despair..." so some bloke can do a novelty accented rhyme with "pubic hair." Not all heroes etc...
8. It Was Over (Kev's Lament)
The second track to earn a music video, even less likely to be played on Rage, featuring a flashback to young Kev unsuccessfully trying to get off with a young lady in the backseat of his car. The line "I remember back on our very first date" implies that the two characters lived happily ever after, but not before a scenario later described as "I had a cunt of a night but me undies had a ball".
I don't know if it's possible to prematurely blow your load multiple times but young Kev manages it x4, to the backing of doo-wop sounds from a knock-off Delltones. Then her dad bangs on the roof of the car and he shits himself too. However, Kev doesn't go home without some sort of result, the bra obviously came off at some point because he says it was the "first time I'd had a tit in me mouth since I was nine months old". I'm sure people who did get it on in the backseat of cars felt a nostalgic pang from this song, I can't think of anything worse.
My favourite part is the evergreen, fit for all purposes line "You hear people say that they'd love to go back and do things that they did in the past, but if you reckon they were the real good old days you can go shove them right up your arse." Which pretty much says it all about nostalgia. Except for posts about how old comedy albums are better than new ones, they are very good.
If you're watching the video stay right to the end (or skip to 2.20) for another acting masterclass, this time for his reaction to his soiled underderps sticking to the wall.
9. Dick'taphone
If you think Kev's Courtin' Song ruined the dating scene, imagine the effect this had on Telecom's 013 operators? The track that launched a thousand nuisance calls is my favourite, and there's a far-fetched claim that Prince Charles was into it too. Imagine the chaos when this album was flying high in the charts and every second listener thought they'd be the first to ring up and tell the operator to "stick that fucking phone up your fucking arse". Then imagine Charlie doing it. I wish the tabloids had taped him saying that instead of his disappointing sex chat with Camilla.
Also in massive trouble, anybody with the phone number 477 3104. In the interest of science I applied a nine and called it. Sadly, in Melbourne at least, it has been subject to the Tommy Tutone rule and disconnected. Ironically, Kevin Bloody Wilson's home town of Perth seems to be the only place in Australia where the number still works, allegedly for an A. Agostino. We respectfully ask that you do not ring them up and ask to place a call.
The problem with home versions of this song is that the line itself is not funny in isolation. You could ring up A. Agostino and shout it but there's no comedic effect without the nasally accent Kev sings the song in. Rack off Whispering Jack, this is one of the great Australian vocal performances, especially the way he pronounces "arse" as "arth" for no obvious reason. That's the mark of a professional, making a subtle change that significantly improves the performance.
Trouble starts when our unnamed protagonist tries to connect a call to the soon-to-be infamous 477 3104 but is continually thwarted by the poor hearing of the Telecom operator. Eventually he cracks the sads, and when told "I got the first bit, I just can't get the last" he invites her to... well, you know.
A legend was born, and by all accounts it was regularly aired at maximum volume in the most inappropriate places. Like one night at Flagstaff Station in the late 80s, where the staff thought it safe to blast the song through the station PA after the last train departed, only to be confronted by a pair of ashen-faced cleaners who had never heard such filth in all their lives.
We don't hear the operator's response to this helpful suggestion, but she is obviously not happy because a couple of days later the man from the phone company shows up to disconnect Kev's phone for "a breach of regulations." Mr Telecom helpfully suggests "it might help if you'd recall exactly what you said..." as an excuse to get back into the chorus.
Kev is offered a chance at redemption by apologising the 'Operator 42', but the Telecom receptionist asks him to repeat himself and we're off to the races again. Finally the operator turns up, by which time he's had enough, issues the immortal line "you'd better fuckin' brace yourself 'cos they're bringing it around" and abuses her again. I've always wanted to say that in real life but have never had the chance. Presumably his phone was never reconnected and he had to wait several years for Optus to turn up.
At the time of thieving this album I was also right into crank calls, aided by the phone box 50 metres from my front door. Perhaps due to concerns that I too would be tracked down and asked to recall exactly what I said, the victims were usually Demtel operators (008 023 025, I even remember the number). There is absolutely no doubt that at some point I demanded somebody stick the phone and I feel really bad about it now. In fact, I suspect some of the reason I hate making phone calls now is guilt about the cavalcade of artless, abusive calls to anyone with a free call number. By 1994 Demtel had switched to a 'cost of a local call' number and I feel partly responsible. But only partly, everybody in Australia aged 10 and up was tormenting the piss out of their operators.
I was too busy laughing at the time to think about the premise, but surely by 1986 you didn't have to ring an operator and ask them to put you through to a number. Either you knew the number and dialled it or you didn't and you rang up to find it out. Maybe, like the Last Lager Waltz it was set in the past? After Denton neglected to ask we'll probably never find out.
10. Hey Santa Claus
And if you thought Telecom operators had it bad, imagine how shopping centre Santas went after people heard this? The air would have been turning blue at Westfields across Australia as men of all ages yelled "hey Santa Claus you cunt, where's me fuckin' bike?" in the presence of bewildered children and horrified parents.
In the finest tradition of "I'm normal but my kids are weird", this opens with reminiscences of the simple Christmases of the narrator's youth. They couldn't afford tinsel for their Christmas tree so they'd just wheel old grandad in and "make the old cunt sneeze". That takes up the first 50 seconds, with no indication of the total chaos to follow. Then he overhears his own kids unwrapping presents and we're off the races.
"Hey Santa Claus you cunt.
Where's me fuckin' bike?
I've unwrapped all this other junk and there's nothing that I like
I wrote you a fuckin' letter, and I come to see you twice
You worn out geriatic fart, you forgot my fuckin' bike."
And from that moment on, nobody who wore the Santa Claus suit was safe from abuse. Nor, as it turns out, was the narrator's daughter, who appears to have suffered gross sexual assault from the Santa in question, having been made to "sit right on your hand". Even as a kid this bit was jarring to me, coming a time when priests were starting to be exposed as nonces left, right and centre. Good thing nobody was concentrating on this bit, we were all just DELIGHTING in the excessive use of the ultimate swear word, one that still had the power to shock Australians.
This is the song people are most likely to have heard of, even just in passing. It's a chorus that will certainly get stuck in your head, whether you like it or not. Less memorable (to everyone but me), the description of Santa as a 'pisstank', which hinted towards the title of Bloody Wilson's less successful next album, described here in the most deadpan possible way:
... and that wraps it up. Critics and punters howled for different reasons, while I was several years behind. Probably best I didn't hear it on release given that I was five years old. Once I got into it six years late I was hooked. A year later my other aunt inexplicably gave me a copy of Wired World of Sports 2 for Christmas and my filth education got another big kick again. Two decades later I was described by a workmate as the most creative swearer he'd ever met. Thanks for your contribution Kev.
I have no idea where the tape ended up. By the late 1990s my cassette collection was well beyond its use-by date, and best guess is that the lot got dumped into a Salvos bin shortly before the turn of the century. It wasn't until YouTube came along that I was reunited with these monster hits. Then Spotify arrived, and in the course of researching this post I may have ended up on a post-cultural revolution hit list.
It's claimed that Equatorian Guinean president and confirmed shitbloke Francisco Macias Nguema once executed dissidents with a firing squad dressed as jolly old St. Nick. I will request the same treatment, and when asked if I have any final words I will say "Hey Santa Claus...."
